HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times-Advocate, 1946-09-19, Page 7O ESI OKZuSSZSSISSO ESSO :orao;aoExior IOEZXG1:
By WALLACE K. NORMAN
away
a wisp of
barrage of general
I am telling you an untruth? That
I am—lying?”
Xerxes said
■because
on .the same
with
he said.
villages
officer
the
misshapen mud hovels,
for a mouse in a rab-
picked up the flagging
in a most unexpected
not hear from ihead-
captain fumed irri-
Highway
north tp
way No.
a seething maelstrom
thoughts, Xerxes re-
later
hori-
dbwn
hurt
flame
brought
a bang,
had to
posts brought
mental balm.
■Sgt. Klaumer
and at mess sundown
'field uni-
go into
AWAY IN SARNIA
Richardson passed
A moment later he was made
uncomfortable
or so
without
her by
up
>>
sharply.
THE TIMES-ADVOCATE, EXETER, ONTARIO, THURSDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 19ft, 1946
The story thus far; Bill Harvey,
alias Lieut, Xerxes Benedict, enlist
ed in the French Foreign Legion to
escape the aftermath of a dishon
orable discharge from West Point.
He is in Tlaba, anticipating a native
uprising under Aben-el-Akr. He sus
pects the native tribes are joining
forces. In a Tlaba cafe he is sur
prised to meet an American girl,
Constance Barteau, who is with her
brother, a curio buyer. Constance
questions him about the presence of
the Legion, is deeply interested .in.
his answers, Later, Xerxes sees her
with Curt* Sawyer, the man whose perjured testimony .caused' Xerxes’
dismissal from the Point.
CHAPTER V
To say that Xerxes was shocked
would be to state it mildly. He was
stunned. To have had Curt Sawyer
suddenly leap out of the past would
have been enough. But to see him
with his arm thrown affectionately
around Constance Barteau’s shoulder
was more than enough.
Two emotions swept Xerxes. A
blind unreasonable hatred of Curt
Sawyer made his six-foot frame
tremble, and as if by .some strange
reflex his interest in Constance Bar
teau leaped to monumental propor
tions.
Xerxes strode rapidly ‘to the
doorway through which Sawyer and
Constance had vanished. The door,
set deep in a crude arch, was
closed. Xerxes tried it savagely. It
was barred from within. With an
. instinctive gesture he half drew his
service revolver. Then his mind
cleared. One slio£ might precipi
tate the unknown .{error the (Legion
had been sent to throttle. An offi
cer of the Legion, he could not let
personal matters interfere with
duty.
Backing, off, he surveyed the
building swiftly. It ran back from
the street, was adjoined by several
other huts, then was completely lost
in a maze of
As well look
bit warren.
His mind
of confused
-turned to camp. The hard, leathery
faces of the Legionnaires lolling in
the automatic rifle
him a measure of
The harsh voice of
further helped him,
Capt. .Berouge brought him back to
normal with a
invective.
“Why do we quarters?” . the
tably. “Why do they not at least
give us word to let us know they
are still in existence? tF'or all we
know, this grave menace of which'
they spoke may have captured all
of Morrocco—all of Algeria—all of.
France! Why in the name of Satan
do they not .send us word of some
kind? Are we to sit here like fools,
roasting in this hellish sun, until
we are slaughtered in our tracks?”
Xerxes studied his mess plate in
silence a moment. Of 'Curt 'Sawyer,
he dared not speak. That would
be coming too dose to a past he
wished with all his soul to keep
hidden.
“I* was in Tlaba’ this afternoon,
captain,” Xerxes began. “And.. . .”
“Ah, yes,” lieutenant!” Berouge
fixed him with a baleful glare.
“The charming American girl of
whom you spoke so glowingly yes
terday, no doubt. You are taking
grave r,isks in leaving the camp.”
Xerxes squirmed uneasily on his
camp stool. He knew Berouge was
right.
more
score.
“Yes, lieutenant,”
nodded, his boyish
grave. “The captain
I have another look
medinas—those pig
damnable hell pot,” Berouge snap
ped testily. “Tell me, did you see
and Chleuhs chatting with Eastern
and Chleuhs chatting with Eeastern
Berbers in Tlaba this afternoon, as
you did yesterday?”
Xerxes frowned, “No, by George,
I didn’t,” he grunted. “Not a Tuou-
reg, and not a regular hillman.
They’re completely gone,” ’
“Where did they vanish so quick
ly?” Berouge demanded, fidgeting
unhappily. “That makes no sense
either, by the dogs of the devil! I
warn you, gentlemen, ,a nasty mess
is brewing fight under our noses!”
For the moment, his hatred of
Curt Sawyer, his new, warm feel
ing toward Constance Barteau and
the -mystery of Sawyer’s unaccount
able appearance in Tlaba were for
gotten. Not a shot had been fired
since the third company’s arrival.
Not a hostile moye had been made,
Indeed, no hostilities had even been
hinted at, yet 'this was war.
A quiet, 'deadly war that beat at
men’s nerves like the insidious thud
of a hidden tomtom.
But withal, another uneventful
night passed. From dusk until dawn
there was not a hint of trouble.
Nevertheless, Xerxes was taut and
uneasy. For hours he tossed on his
cot trying to solve the riddle of
Curt Sawyer’s appearance in Tlaba
i Noon mess was being .served next
I day when a native boy, clad in a
I remarkably new, clean jelleba pat
tered up to the Legion camp with
a note for Lt. Benedict. It was from
Constance Barteau, Frugal of con
tent, it said simply that she was
sorry she would be unable to keep
the rendezvous with the lieutenant
that nfternoon.
Xerxes hitched at his garrison
■belt angrily and penned a short
note, which he handed to the wait
ing youngster. The note all but
ordered Constance to meet him at
the cafe that evening, At one stroke
he meant to find out what Curt
Sawyer was doing in Tlaba, and
just what he meant to Constance,
“Take this to the lady with the
fair skin, my brawny one,” he in
structed the lad in guttural native
syllables. “Do not fail, for if you
do I shall see that all thy father’s
goats die of bullets! Here!” He
handed the lad a small coin, and the
youngster vanished like
smoke.
That evening after
Xerxes- put on his best
form and prepared to
Tlaba. Berouge, protesting fretfully,
finally let him leave.
Arriving at the cafe, Xerxes found
to his considerable surprise that
Constance was waiting for him. 'She
smiled warmly, greeting him with
outstretched hand.
“I’m so sorry I had to postpone
our meeting this afternoon,” she
said, ana the warmth of her eyes
made Xerxes’ .heart skip a beat
despite the resolution he had made
to ask her outright what she knew
about Curt Sawyer. “You see,” she
added, still smiling, “my brother
had more shawls for me to inspect.”
Xerxes suddenly found that
speaking to her about Curt Sawyer
was not going to he easy. “Oh,
that’s -all right,” he said, and hesi
tated lamely.
Constance
conversation
fashion.
“I know
BEGIN PAVING IN ABOUT WEEK -
Paying’operations on the six-milef
stretch of highway No. 23 between
Mitchell and Russeldale are about
ready to start, according to IL E.
Macpherson, Department of lligh-
ways Divisional Engineer, Grading
and other preparatory work has
been completed and the contractors
are preparing their paving plant to
commence work.
Preparations are also under way
to start paving the Bluewater
Highway section north of Amber
ley to Kincardine,
^ Paving Jias been completed on
No. 4 from Wingham
the intersection of High-
9 about 18 miles',
PASSED
Anna
peacefully at her home in Sarnia
after a lengthy illness, Deceased
was well-known in this community
being the eldest daughter of the
late Samuel and Miary Jane Smith,
She spent her early life
Funeral services were
in Sarnia on Sunday,
1st, at 2.30 p.m.
DuPlan, The
.here,
conducted
September
by Rev. Austin
remains were taken
to Walkerton on Monday for burial.
She leaves to mourn her loss, her
bereaved husband; one 'daughter,
Audrey; two sisters, Mrs. W. Ait
ken, Toronto; and Mrs. W. Web
ber; and two brothers, Jim Smith,
Washington, D.C., and Will, of
town.
Constance Barteau seemed sud
denly panic-stricken Her face
blanched and she stifled a fright
ened gasp with her hands. Then,
almost as if another girl stood in
her place, she answered in a voice
that was calm and steady.
“Why—how do you know—?
she began, then checked herself.
“I—I had no idea you knew him?”
she stammered. “Do you?”
It was Xerxes’ turn to be taken
aback. He stared 'down at her per
plexedly .before replying.
“Yes,” he said bitterly. “I know
him. But that’s beside the point.
How well do you know him, and
—what does he mean to you? I
saw you together* after you left me
yesterday.”
Constance started perceptibly,
then caught herself. “You did?”
she asked easily enough, but her
eyes
I Cornish-HamiSton
Wilma Jean, daughter of Mr. and
Mrs. William A. Hamilton, Prom-
arty, became the bride of -Mr, John
Carlyle Cornish, Brucefleld, in an
interesting double-ring ceremony
conducted by Rev.( w., A. MacWil-
Jiams in Cromarty Presbyterian
Church, on Saturday, September 7,
at 2 o’clock. Tall standards of
gladioli formed a pretty setting
for the wedding for which the mus
ic was played by Mrs. C, Miller,
The soloist, Miss June Murdoch,
sang “Because” and “Always”,
Given in marriage 'by her father,
the bride wore a floor-length gown
of Nottingham lace fashioned with
fitted bodice and a full skirt ex
tending to a slight train, The only
trimming was a tiny frill around
the high neckline, with puff
sleeves and the hemline. She wore
matching lace mittens and her fin
ger-tip veil was caught by a halo.
She carried a cascade bouquet of
Better Time Roses.
Miss Hazel Hamilton was her
sister's maid-of-honor and Miss
Betty Hunkin, Belmore, niece of
the bride was junior bridesmaid.
They were gowned in pink and
blue organza respectively, styled
similar to that of the bride and
wore matching halo hats and mit
tens. They carried pink Madam
Butterfly roses. Rosanna Worden,
niece of the bride, looked winsome
in a frilled floor-length gown of
Yellow taffeta and carried a nose
gay of mauve sweetpeas. Mr. Allen
Hill, cousdn ‘Of the groom, was
best man and the ushers were
Clifton Miller and Kenneth Scott.
The reception was held on the
lawn of the bride’s parents where
the wedding luncheon was served
to fifty guests -by Misses -Marion
Hill, Mary Stapleton, Audrey Hun
kin, Lorraine .Fowler and Annja
Hamilton, with Mrs. Roy Brock
and Miss Kathleen .Stapleton pour
ing tea.
For their wedding trip the bride
and groom changed to matching
gabardine brown- suits, the? bride
wearing a corsage of white gar
denias.
were averted. ‘‘Well, you see
She faltered an instant. ‘‘You
my brother Raoul has known
for a long while. And natur-
when we met here in Tlaba
and he have been going
see,
Curt
ally
Raoul
around together,”
“Then you met here!” Xerxes
demanded, going on without wait
ing for a reply. “W.hat’s Sawyer
doing here in Tlaba—ten thousand
miles from his father’s millions?”
“What? Oh—!” IFor the infinit
esimal part of a second fear blazed
in the girl’s eyes, but Xerxes did not
see it. She turned her head as sne
spa'rred for time. “What’s he doing
■here?” she repeated. “Oh, just tour
ing.”
“Touring?” Xerxes snorted in
credulously. “Touring alone, in a
country where he might have a
knife rammed through his fat throat
at any turn in the road? I don’t
believe it!”
“Lieutenant!” Constance Barteau
drew herself up angrily, her eyes
flashing. “Are you inferring that
The man who always looked nt
the bright .side of things had the
misfortune to suffer from burglars
who raided his store.
“But it could have been worse,”
he said philosophically. “You see, I
didn’t lose as much as I might have,
for I had just finished marking
down things fox’ the month-end sale.
it 1
WM W. A J.,
Mk ■ J
young La Rue
eyes growing
suggested that
at those three
„ _ sty
down below Tlaba. I took a patrol
down there and found . .
“Yes,” Xerxes looked up
“You found 'What, LaRue?”
“Nothing,” the younger . ...
shrugged. “Nothing, that is, bat the
hoofprints of a hundred
horses. Last night those mud. vil
lages must have been swarming
with riders.”'
“Which way did their trail lead?”
Xerxes demanded,
“South,” iLaRue replied. “South,
and west probably. Straight toward
the hills of the Riff!”
Xerxes sat up straight. “The Rif-
fi?” he growled. “But that doesn’t'
make sense, LaRue, old son.”
“Nothing makes sense in this
this- may seem—iwell,
brazen, to say the least,” she said,
“but I hope you won’t look at it
that way.” She wavered a moment,
.her dark eyes darting to the black,
shadowy street outside the lighted
arch of the cafe, as if she expected
to see something there. “The town
is—is so stuffy tqnight,” she said
quickly. “Would you care to stroll
out to the well near the edge of the
sandhills? It’s glorious out there.”
For the fraction of a second
Xerxes meant to refuse. Then the
spell of her eyes, her lips and her
poised, vibrant figure overcame
him. Her hand fell lightly on his arm’
“Sure,” he said with military
bluntness. “Let’s go.”
Constance led the way from the
cafe. Following a tortuous, alley
like street, they wound .between
rows of miserable mud huts that
seemed in the swiftly falling dark
ness to’ be blended into one solid
and straw. Abruptly
from the edge of
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Tho stitches, twitches, and twinges
are bad enough and cause great suf
fering, but back of tho backache
and the cause of it all ia the dis
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ing through the back.
A pain in the back is the kidneys'
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Get a box of Doan’s Kidney Pills.
A remedy for backache and sick
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“Doan's" are put up in an
oblong grey box with our trade
mark a "Maple Leaf” on the
wrapper.
Refuse substitutes. Get** Doan's."
Ths T. MDbuxh Co, I4A, Toronto, On*.
mass of mud
they emerged
town.
Free of the
aii' was clear
chill of the <
pades ahead
reared their
native well!
the right the legion camp loomed
blackly in the gloom of dusk.
Moving forward until they were
beneath -the palm trees, Xerxes and
Constance stood side by side, the
girl’s hand brushing the lieuten
ant’s sleeve. Overhead (he deepen
ing blue of the sky was already
stippled with brilliant stars. An ef-
feulgent glow burnished the tops o<f
the eastern peaks, ja moment
the imoon rolled up- over the
zon, spilling its silver light
into the wide desort valleys.
breath-
foul street odors, the
and tinged With the
desert night, A few
a clump of date palms
shaggy heads above a
a quarter* of a mile to
“Wonderful,” Constance
, “Wonderful, isn’t it?”
Tho sound of her voice
Xerxes back to earth with
There was something he
know, and the quicker he found it
out the better.
“Miss Barteau,” he said abruptly,
“I don’t wish to seem presuming,
but— how well do you know Curt
Sawyer?”
“Oh, no! No!”
hastily, realizing suddenly that he
had been. “I didn’t mean that for
you. Believe me I didn’t. It’s just
that—well, I know Sawyer!”
“Yes?” The girl's dark eyes were
troubled and Xerxes sensed’ the
tremor that ran through her supple
body. “I know him, too,” she said.
“I shouldn’t say it, I suppose, as
he is my. brother’s friend, but I
don’t like him. I— I despise him.
But I can’t offend him— "
of Raoul.”
Xerxes turned and,
stopping to reason, took
the shoulders. She looked
a half frightened gasp.
“Do you mean that?”
“He means' nothing to you? You
—you despise him?” '
For a moment Constance stared
up into Xerxes’ bronzed faejp,
speechless.
“Yes,” she said, and her throaty
voice was vibrant with emotion,
mean it. I hate him.”
It may have been the moon,
it may have been the deep age
less mystery of the desert. Hot
blood welled up into Xerxes'
cheeks. He stooped and kissed
Constance full on hei* red lips. She
remained motionless an instant,
then, lifting up on her toes, return
ed the kiss.
The stark, barren years fell from
Xerxes like a cast-off cloak. The
lingering ashes of the old
were consumed in the living
of this new love.
“Constance,” he said, his voice
ringing queerly in his own ears, “I
—I’ve no right to tell you, 'but
I—“ He stopped, floundering
miserably,
“Yes, I know—Xerxes,” Con
stance finished for him, her body
pressing gently against his, “(
know, because I-—I believe’ I
you, too,”
His heart hammering at
throat, Xerxes straightened,
arms still around Constance, __
ho did so, an orahge .stab of flame
slit the moonlit night from the top
of a sandhill a hundred yards to
the west. A sharp, rending crack shattered the deaih-like stillness,
and a rifle bullet snatched Xerxes*
kepi from his head.
(Continued Next Week)
Next' Week: Xerxes pausos to
Woiider if porchanCe he Was led to
the palm grove for the precise pur
pose of this ambush.
‘I do
love
his
his
As
||||||till
THE PROVINCE OF
ONTARIO’S growing gold . . . her largest cash crop .
is tobacco. Its twenty-year development, from nothing to really
something, has been due almost entirely to the phenomenal increase in
flue-cured tobacco—the most valuable of the three types groivn here.
The others are burley and dark-leaf. This year, a fourth type,
cigar leaf—one thousand acres of it—opens rich, new Ontario
possibilities. Tobacco is a delicate plant and a demanding one,
needing Utmost watchfulness and even handmade encouragement
during its complicated cure. Its cultivation means back-breaking,
short-season work with high rewards for all concerned.
Published by THE BREWING INDUSTRY (ONTARIO)
A COBNKR ON TOBACCO
The annual Ontario production of
tobacco is about 97,000,000 pounds—
its value around $30,000,000. In the
• southwest corner of the province,
some 90,000 acres are planted to it and
the Ontario crop represents nine-tenths
of the Dominion yield. 85 % of this is
high-grade flue-cured—the lcss-care-
fully-treated burley and
dark-leaf making up the
rests It is an industry ill
which h few experts pre-
pate the Scene for a sudden
inrush by thousands of
workers in the crucial har
vest weeks.